


A Good Reason to Die

by foreverHenry919



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Disfigurement, Drama & Romance, Friendship/Love, Gen, Major Character Injury, Original Character Death(s), Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9513065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverHenry919/pseuds/foreverHenry919
Summary: Henry is the victim of a heinous attack when he's deliberately doused with acid, leaving him with painful third-degree burns. He now has to choose between keeping his secret or remaining disfigured and suffering through years of painful surgeries. What will he do? What must he do?





	1. A Good Reason to Die Ch 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters. But I think this would make a great Broadway musical play. And Ioan has a great singing voice.

Abe Morgan nervously gripped the steering wheel of his car as he and Henry sat in deafening silence and stared out at the choppy, briney waters of the East River. After several long minutes, Abe spoke up.

"You're not sure you wanna do this, are you?" he asked quietly, his gaze still fixed on the waters.

Henry sighed. "Does seem rather desperate." He sighed again and forced his gaze up and across the river to the twinkling lights of the city's nightscape. "Cowardly." He removed the gloves, with the special side openings and large velcro fastening, from his hands and examined them again, palmside down, then up, then down, then up again, as if by magic the scars would vanish. And all ten fingers would heal along with the underlying musculature. Without the ability to effectively hold and use his medical instruments anymore, his days as a medical examiner, or as any type of physician, were over. Even so, he felt more fortunate than the attacker's other five victims.

Two of them, a married couple in their 90's, celebrating their anniversary by taking in a Broadway play, had been attacked as they'd exited the theater. They'd died only a few hours later. Three others had survived with more extensive injuries than he had, and would undergo years of facial reconstructive surgery and physical and psychological therapy. Victim #3, a 42-year-old housewife and mother of three, had recently been served divorce papers by her spineless husband. Victims #4 and #5, a young couple out on the town, had initially supported each other in an effort to maintain their relationship. But the pressures of their new, more harsh realities threatened to pull them apart.

Most of Henry's face had been spared when he'd been attacked. But his left ear had been badly damaged. In the process of demonstrating to Jo two possible ways in which a person might automatically shield themselves from such an attack, he'd covered his face with both of his arms, then, both of his hands. As fate would have it, the attacker had chosen that very same moment to douse him with industrial strength drain cleaner. They'd been walking near Bethesda Fountain in Central Park, as luck would have it, and he'd had the presence of mind to throw himself into the fountain's cooling waters. Passersby had aided Jo and him in removing his acid-soaked top clothing. Others had successfully subdued the attacker until the police had arrived and taken him into custody.

After the attack, Henry had gone into shock and had spent several weeks in the hospital. The doctors had used skin from the large areas of his body to repair the burns on his forearms, hands, and ear. But too many people, including Jo, had seen him badly injured. Many of them were strangers he'd probably never meet again, but the hospital staff; the responders; and ... Jo. What plausible explanation could he come up with to justify his sudden and miraculous recovery from these burns when all of the others had not? It was all so tempting. Just swallow the small vile of poison tucked away in his coat pocket, die, come back healed in the river. He had a way out of this pain and disfigurement that none of the others did. He told himself that it was necessary in order to get his life back on track. Get back to his job and colleagues, now friends, and to Jo.

They'd known each other for nearly three years, but had grown closer over the past year and a half; and he had begun to feel that they could have something special together. That is, if he'd ever gotten up the nerve to reveal his secret of immortality to her. Abe had been warning him that he should do so, but the longer he'd delayed, the harder it had become for him to do so. And then, this happened. He ran it over and over in his mind how he would explain his totally healed body to Jo. Hang everyone else, what would Jo think? How would she react? It _would_ then be necessary to reveal the truth about his condition to her, but ... No. There had to be a better way.

"Quite the contrary, I _do_ want to do this." He sighed and clumsily managed to put his gloves back on. "But I have to find another way. Let's go back home, please, Abraham."

Abe looked at his father for a few seconds as he'd struggled with the gloves. He fought back the natural urge to help him because Henry had told him that he must learn to do simple tasks by himself, for himself.

Henry turned to him with a forced smile and repeated, "Let's go home."

Abe grunted, started up the car, backed it up, and headed home to the shop. "Can't say as I blame you for wanting to, but what do you plan to do now?" he asked, the concern in his voice evident.

Henry pulled his lips in and exhaled loudly through his nose. "I'll figure something out."

" **We'll** figure something out," Abe said with a reassuring smile.

vvvv

British Airways Flight 1515 would take him on a more than 12-hour journey from New York, to Copenhagen, Denmark. It was a long flight, but he had time. All the time in the world. And he knew the language once he would arrive there, even though he was sure English would be spoken by most everyone so there would not be any barriers to effective communication.

"What time's your flight?" Abe asked with a deadpanned expression.

"Tomorrow morning, 4:36 AM," Henry replied, much in the same manner.

They'd discussed at length his supposed decision to be treated at a burn unit in Copenhagen. His treatment and recovery would take months. Then, all perfectly healed, he would return to New York, pick his life and career back up with the OCME, and, hopefully, resume his relationship with Jo. A perfect plan. No questions asked. Of course, it was all rubbish. He'd find a place to settle in there and pick a time and method for his self-demise in order to be healed. Abe had begrudgingly agreed to help him pull off the hoax of his travel to a faraway clinic for lengthy but bogus treatment and recovery. It was simple. And no one would ever have to know the truth. His secret could be kept from Jo a little bit longer.

"What if she doesn't wait for you? Say she meets some other guy, just as good-looking, maybe more; maybe more charming, maybe rich like that Ivan guy?" Abe suggested.

Henry frowned as he took in his words. "Isaac," he replied and stared at his half-eaten meal. He'd long since tired of trying to eat his finely chopped or pureed food with a spoon.

"What?" Abe asked, confused.

"Isaac," Henry repeated a bit louder as he rose from the table. "His name was Isaac Monroe."

"Whatever." Abe waved a hand dismissively. "What if you bounce out of here, keep her in the dark and she finds out? She _is_ a detective, you know. She's not dumb. Not like _some_ people I know," he muttered under his breath.

"I heard that last part," Henry flatly replied as he stared at the uneaten food on his paper plate. Normally, he would have eaten all of it from a regular plate, he would have rinsed it and the utensils and situated them into the dishwasher. It was all so much of a challenge now. "Just because you've gotten older doesn't mean that you have permission to speak so disrespectfully to me."

His voice had that distracted tone all too familiar to Abe. And there was no sparkle in his eyes. Hadn't been ever since he'd been attacked. But it was the tiredness that had crept into his voice that worried Abe the most.

As Henry turned to face Abe again, the tiredness showed even more on his face. "I'm not in the mood to argue with you anymore about this, though. Goodnight, Abraham." He turned and walked out of the kitchen.

"Night, Dad." Abe couldn't help but feel a bit slighted. His father usually hugged him before going to bed, he poutingly observed. But his injuries, though healing, still generated enough pain when he raised his arms or if any pressure was applied.

"Abraham?"

Abe looked up to see his father standing in the kitchen doorway, his head slightly bowed with an apologetic look on his face.

"Yeah, Pops?"

Henry walked over to him and slowly bent down and pressed his chin to the top of Abe's head. He raised back up with a chuckle. "That's the best I can do for now. I owe you a big bear hug."

Abe grinned and raised a finger at him. "You owe me a _lot_ of 'em."

Henry backed away grinning, then dipped his head, turned around, and walked out again.

"Night, Pops," Abe whispered again, this time with a warm smile.

vvvv

"Henry! Henry! Dad!" Abe shouted as he knocked loudly on Henry's bedroom door, then swung it open and entered his room. The clock radio on the nightstand displayed 6:13 AM. "Dad, wake up! You missed your flight!" He had mixed feelings about it, though. On the one hand, he was glad that Dad wasn't leaving just yet, but deep down inside, he knew it was probably the best plan for his father to get healed and be able to resume his life in New York. Abe walked quickly over to his slumbering father and started to shake the bed to rouse him. But the peaceful look on his face stopped him from doing so. The flight was already a bust, so he'd let him sleep a little longer. The flight could always be re-scheduled. He turned and tiptoed out of the room and gently closed the door shut again. As he neared his own bedroom, the early morning newscast was blaring a report of massive demonstrations and chaos at JFK International Airport. He walked into the room dreading that it might be another terrorist attack. He closed his door and settled down on his bed. He frowned as he listened to the unbelievable news report.

"... The President signed an executive order Friday barring citizens of seven Muslim-majority countries from entering the country ..."

Abe switched the channel.

" ... tens of thousands are marching to protest the President's immigration ban ... "

He switched the channel again.

"... in cities and airports across the United States ... "

It was the same on every news channel, a big story of people being detained with threats of immediate deportation, confusion among the various airports' security personnel, protests, utter chaos.

Abe scoffed. "Good thing Dad overslept and he's not gonna be in the middle of all that."

It was another hour and a half before Henry finally woke up, at first in a panic. He'd calmed down once Abe had explained the situation effecting JFK and many other airports across the country.

"Looks like you're landlocked," Abe jokingly observed. "At least for a while."

Henry frowned as his eyes darted about the room while he considered his other options. He sighed and raised his eyebrows as he looked at Abe. "Then, it's Plan B."

"The cabin upstate?" Abe asked.

Henry nodded and managed to spoon up some more scrambled eggs and crumbled bacon (courtesy of his very attentive and caring son). As he chewed, he closed his eyes and was already imagining a heartier meal that required the deft use of a knife and fork.

"So ... tonight ... again?" Abe cautiously asked.

"Yes, tonight," Henry replied. "And not a moment too soon."

Abe groaned and held both hands to the small of his back as he rose from his chair at the kitchen table. Henry winced as he watched him limp into the living room. And there was that. The guilt he felt of hauling his elderly son around at all hours of the night, of worrying him more than necessary. Especially recently since he now required special preparation of his meals so he could handle feeding himself. It weighed heavily on his mind more and more each day. But this self-death was necessary. Even Abe had agreed.

"I'll go online and try to get a refund for you on those airline tickets, Pops," Abe loudly announced as he huffed down onto the couch and pulled his laptop, already out on the coffee table, closer to him.

"Thank you, Abe." He managed to clear the table by pushing the pedal waste bin over to the edge of the table with his foot and sweeping the paper plates and utensils into the open receptacle with his arms. Gently. Slowly. But anything he could do to be of help. Tonight couldn't come too soon for him.

 


	2. A Good Reason to Die Ch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan delayed, Henry tries to dissuade Jo from visiting. But she does anyway. Will he finally decide to tell Jo his secret? Will he enlist her aid instead of an exhausted Abe to help him carry out his Plan B?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

_He removed the gloves, with the special side openings and large velcro fastening, from his hands and examined them again ... Without the ability to effectively hold and use his medical instruments anymore, his days as a medical examiner, or as any type of physician, were over._

vvvv

Henry paced in his bedroom as he recalled his initial panic after the attack, along with the pain and weeks of treatment rendered by the exceptional and highly-trained staff at the Presbyterian Hospital's Burn Center.

The risk of infection was so great in those first weeks, that well-wishers had not been allowed to bring him flowers because they could carry germs.

They'd first had to stabilize him. After that followed four days of treatment with intravenous fluid and stabilizing drugs. He then began the painful skin-graft treatment. The grafts, which had to be replaced every few days, were to cover his wounds in an effort to decrease the risk of infection, quicken the healing process, and reduce the scarring.

"The problem with scarring is that not only is it cosmetically disfiguring, but it's functionally impairing, as well," one of his doctors, Dr. Welles, had told him.

Henry already knew that it was because scar tissue does not have the same elasticity as normal tissue, so it's harder to stretch it out. But beyond the obvious physical pain was the emotional damage that he'd struggled with. Therapy. It had been recommended by his doctor and mandated by his department. He scoffed at the thought, reminded of his one session with Adam, who'd hidden behind his false identity of Dr. Lewis Farber. He'd rather sit through several more wound dressing sessions than venture into a Psychotherapy Department again. But a bogus record of his visits to a bogus psychotherapist would also have to be part of his bogus trip abroad for treatment and healing. And he suddenly realized why he no longer enjoyed his meals.

It wasn't because of the difficulty in transferring the food on his plate into his mouth, or the limited variety of foods and their mostly unsavory preparations ... it was the lies, the big ball of wax of lies he was conconcting in order to make a hasty exit from his present state of misery. And survivor's guilt. Let's not forget about that, he laughed sarcastically to himself. A wave of nausea swept over him and he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. As he took in several deep breaths to calm himself, the nausea slowly waned and faded away. With a clearer head, he reminded himself that he had not asked for this, this, curse of a long life interrupted by temporary deaths. But one definite benefit was the immediate healing after. And, well, bollocks! He bloody well intended to take advantage of it! Determination renewed, he walked out into the hallway and called to his son.

"Abraham. Abraham?" He walked over and stood in the open doorway of Abe's bedroom. Abe sat on the side of his bed, his weariness evident. Henry quickly scooted over to him, bending down to face him. "Abraham, are you ill?"

Abe slowly shook his head and sighed. "No, Pops, just ... just tired, that's all." He sighed again and rubbed his eyes, then opened them and looked at Henry. "Sorry. I just need some rest before we do this."

Henry's face crumpled into a most pained expression of guilt and caring. "Of course, you do. I'm the one who should apologize to you. Dragging you around here and there." He stood up straight again and managed a weak smile. "You go to bed now and get some rest."

"Sorry, Dad, I just --- "

"No, no, no, no, no, you just lie back and rest, sleep. Don't worry about a thing."

Abe started to undress and then stopped. "You know what?" He unlaced and removed his shoes, pulled the other half of the comforter over him and laid his head on the pillow. He smiled at his father, then closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Henry smiled and backed out of the room. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he told himself, as he pulled on either side of the doorknob and managed to get the door nearly closed. He still had neither the grasping ability nor the muscular strength to just pull it all the way shut. But he had improved to this point. He returned to his own bedroom and decided it was easier to mimic Abe's actions, which he did. Just as he'd lain down, the phone on the nightstand rang. Abe had replaced the fancy French-style phone with a more modern one with a speakerphone. The caller ID displayed J MARTINEZ, indicating she was calling him from her personal cellphone. He hadn't been prepared to speak with her yet. He sighed and sat up and punched the speakerphone/answering button.

"Hello, Jo. How have you been?" He forced a smile and hoped it would translate into his voice.

"Hi, Henry. You sound ... I mean, uh, I was thinking about you and so I decided to call ... you," she responded awkwardly. Clearly, the concern in her voice meant that his fake smile had not covered the tiredness in his own. She was too smart not to miss that. And she had begun to read him pretty well. It was just one of the things that made him love her so much. Lying to her made all of this that much more difficult.

"As well as can be expected, I believe the appropriate response would be." He tried to make light of it all, but she wasn't buying it.

"If you don't mind, I'd ... like to come --- "

"No, Jo," he interrupted her before she could finish. He simply could not stand seeing her tonight. That wasn't quite true. Truth is, he very much needed to see her. To hold her. To tell her the truth about himself, to be honest with her for once. And the ugly truth was that he hated the fact that he couldn't really hold her like he wanted to. He couldn't caress her face or her body lovingly, the way a man does who loves his woman. These hands. These ugly scars. She'd told him countless times that none of that mattered to her, that she wasn't shallow, she loved him. But was he really that vain? He hadn't known before this, but, yes. Having the same admittedly good looks for over 200 years had unknowingly steered him into that corner. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's been quite a busy day for both of us, Abe and me, so ... "

There was silence at the other end of the line but he could hear her softly breathing and the muted sounds of a TV game show on in the background.

"Jo? You still there?"

"Yes, Henry." Her voice was strained. "We haven't really seen each other in a while."

"Well, it's been ... I've had quite a lot on my _plate_ lately, if you recall," he responded almost huffily.

"You've been pushing me away, Henry." Anger, he heard in her voice now, and hurt. "That's not fair."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "You're absolutely right. It isn't fair."

"What am I supposed to do with that, Henry?" He heard the familiar catch in her voice, the one whenever she was fighting back tears.

"Jo. Darling, I ... "

"Do I have to say it again? Okay. I love you, Henry Uptight Oldfashioned Sweet Gentleman Morgan! You're not getting rid of me! Now, do you love _me_?"

He grinned broadly through a few tears. Yes, he loved that woman!

"Well, DO YOU??" she loudly demanded, her voice almost piercing his eardrums.

"Yes! YES!" He let out a genuine laugh. "I love you, Jo Sweet Delightful Patient Beautiful Strong Martinez!" How could he have thought he could have fooled her? Lied to her any longer? Abe was right. He had to tell her. Soon.

vvvv

He smiled to himself as he waited in the shop downstairs and watched for Jo. Her last words to him before hanging up _(I'm on my way over there, Mister!)_ , caused him to chuckle. He quickly walked over and unlocked the shop's door when he saw her walking up. He stepped aside to let her in and locked the door back.

"You handle that lock pretty well now," she commented.

"Yes, I ... I didn't even think about it." He looked at his hands and at her in wonder. "Guess I was so eager to see you that it just came naturally to me," he admitted, grinning.

She smiled and bit her lower lip, her hands shoved down into her coat pocket. She looked at him expectantly, nervously, but said nothing.

He became painfully aware of his damaged ear, thankful for the shop's semi-darkness, and turned his head slightly away from her.

She knew exactly what he was doing, what he was feeling, and it broke her heart that he felt he had to hide from her. It had taken more than a couple of years for him to open up to her. For her to open up to him. Now, just as they really seemed to be making progress in growing their relationship, this had to happen and cause him to shrink away from her again. She wasn't having it, though.

"Ah, let's, uh, go upstairs to the living room, shall we?" He stepped towards her, expecting her to turn and walk ahead of him. When she didn't move, he stopped abruptly in front of her, nearly bumping into her. "Jo ... ?" he frowned.

"You still don't get it, do you?" She cupped his face in both of her hands and when she felt him resist facing her straight on, she stubbornly turned his face for him, so that their eyes locked. When she gently rubbed her fingers over his ear, his eyelids fluttered closed and he sucked in his breath. She leaned closer, kissed his cheek, and pressed hers against his. She whispered in his other ear, "I know why you don't want me to touch you. It's not because it's that painful. It's because you're embarrassed. I've told you before that you don't have to be. I didn't fall in love with your perfect skin and muscles, Henry Morgan. I fell in love with the man. You. I love what's in your heart and soul. Your mind." Her lips found his in a crushingly tender kiss. She pulled away and looked into his eyes again. "Now, can you get that into that thick skull of yours?" He seemed at first surprised by her bluntness, then slowly grinned and nodded. She gently wrapped her hands around his and kissed him again.

He pulled back and said, "Wait. Just a moment." He gently tugged his hands free from hers and slowly stretched his arms around her waist (or as much as he could) and pulled her closer (or as much as he could).

She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and they kissed the living daylights out of each other. In the back of her mind, she thought that they probably were providing quite a makeout display for late night passersby, but she didn't care. They finally pulled away from each other, smiling, almost giggling like bashful schoolkids.

"Jo, let's ... let's go upstairs. I have something very important to tell you."

"Such seriousness all of a sudden. You look like you're about to share your deepest, darkest secret with me, Henry," she teased.

That lopsided grin of his threatened to add itself to the look of surprise on his face. "You might say something like that."

vvvv

Information on the treatment given to burn patients derived from several sites such as http://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/711438 and from a bit of personal experience. No, I'm not disfigured, although, my husband might have something to say on that. Another story, another time LOL.


	3. A Good Reason to Die Ch 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo finds it hard to believe Henry's secret at first. But this is the man she loves. Abe helps his father convince her. But will she help Henry kill himself so that he can be quickly healed? Will she also help him perpetrate the hoax of his treatment and recovery in a faraway land?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

_"... You look like you're about to share your deepest, darkest secret with me, Henry." she teased._

_That lopsided grin of his threatened to add itself to the look of surprise on his face. "You might say something like that."_

vvvv

"What!?" Jo jumped up off of the couch and paced frantically back and forth in front of Henry, then stopped to face him with her hands on her hips. She leaned forward and yelled at him again, "Immortal???" She shook her head and her hair mussed as it swung vigorously back and forth. She glared at him and wagged her finger in his face. "Why are you telling me something like this, Henry?" She put both hands on her hips again and tilted her head to the side. "What makes you think --- how _dare_ you think that I would believe some --- some --- utter hogwash like this!!?" She threw her arms up again and turned away from him.

Completely out of character, Henry remained silent and allowed her to expend her emotions. Normally, he would have tried to silence her for fear of disturbing his sleeping son. But, selfishly (okay, he grudgingly realized, he was not only vain, but he was selfish), he hoped that the commotion would awaken Abe so he could come help him to convince Jo that he was telling her the truth. Finally. His bloody idea, anyway, to tell her. After several minutes it didn't seem to be working, though. He stood and put up both hands and pat them towards her in an effort to calm her down.

"Jo, please lower your voice. Try to calm down. Please," he begged her. "You'll wake Abraham. Before he went to sleep he was exhausted." He appealed to her better nature and how much she liked the elderly gent.

"Well, too late to lower your voice, Jo. Abraham's awake and he's still exhausted," Abe dryly commented as he shuffled into the living room and sat in his favorite armchair. "Now, what in the name of the Big Kahuna is going on in here?" He looked from one to the other and quietly stated, "Ohhh, you told her that you're immortal, didn't you? And she doesn't believe you, right?" He looked at his father with raised eyebrows and more than a bit of amused 'I told you so' tugged at his mouth.

Henry opened his mouth and closed it with an exasperated sigh, shook his head slightly and threw his hands up in frustration. Jo looked from one man to the other, her eyes wide, her mouth clamped into a thin, angry line, and to both of them, she appeared to fume.

"What in the --- ? Abraham Morgan, are you trying to tell me that you believe this --- **_crap_** that Henry just unloaded on me?" She leveled her discord in the manner of a disappointed parent. The irony was not lost on Henry. Or Abe.

Abe vigorously nodded in the affirmative, his smile slowly widening.

 _Mischievous, Henry thought, so mischievous, that boy_.

She glared down her nose at Abe and demanded, "Why?"

Abe had been waiting for this. Oh, ho, ho, he'd been waiting for this. Savoring the moment, he cut his eyes over to his father, who closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Because I'm his son." He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs (and looking all too smug for his father's tastes), his hands dangling over the sides of the chair's arms. " _That's_ why."

She simply couldn't believe what she was hearing. Both of them were ... well, mad. Driven to madness by all of the recent trauma inflicted upon Henry, whose state of mind could be excused because of maybe too much pain medication and his delayed psychotherapy. Abe, on the other hand, must now be too senile to know reality from fantasy anymore. And, this is what they were both blabbering on about, pure fantasy. She took a deep breath and folded her arms.

Both men waited for her response. When she didn't say anything immediately, Henry started to say something. "Jo. If you'll just please allow me, us, to explain."

"No, you explain, Dad. I'm just here for backup. I got your Six." He grinned at his father's confusion over the term, then explained, "I'm your Wingman." For which he earned one of Henry's "Abraham, please" chastisements.

The harried Immortal turned his attention back to Jo, who appeared to have opened the clue calculator in her head. He could tell because of the tiny frown lines along and between her brows and the way she was biting her lower lip. She was putting it all together. All the little hints he'd dropped over the past few years. She was adding up the unexplained and mysterious incidents surrounding him ever since they'd met. When she began to tremble and waver a bit, he quickly moved to her side and guided her back over and down onto the couch.

"Abe, some water, please, for Jo," he asked with breathless urgency.

"Looks to me like she needs something a lot stronger than water." Henry shot him a disapproving look and he quickly rose from his chair. "Water it is, then." He shuffled towards the kitchen but stopped when Jo loudly voiced a preference for whiskey. "Whiskey, it _is_ , then."

Henry shook his head at his son's retreating form. He reached up to caress Jo's cheek, but at the sight of his own hand, quickly withdrew it. It was a reflex action even though she had just told him that his injuries mattered not to her. He lowered his eyes and pursed his lips, annoyed at his own cowardice. He raised his eyes and met hers when he felt her hands gently encompass his. He attempted to pull away from her grasp, but she held on.

"Henry, I think I know you well enough by now to know that you're telling me the truth. Somehow, this crazy claim of yours is true." She barely whispered it because, in her mind, to speak it louder would once again cause it to gather absurdity, and she'd be forced to reject it again. "What do we do now? Where do we go from here?" she asked, totally lost and out of her element. In all her years as a cop, she'd never encountered anything like this. Never entered her mind that there was anything like this --- like Henry --- in the natural world.

Just then, Abe returned with a bottle of Hennessy and two, 2-oz. shot glasses. He set them on the coffee table and poured the liquid into both of them. Jo snatched one glass off of the table and downed it before anyone could say anything. She closed her eyes and let the potent potable work in her system, then opened her eyes, grabbed the bottle and poured herself another shot. But this time she sipped it. She looked at Abe and blinked several times as if seeing him for the first time. "So. All this time. Right under my nose. Right under my friggin' nose," she scoffed and downed the rest of her drink. She plunked the glass loudly back down onto the wooden coffee table and let out a long, loud sigh. "I swear, you two."

Abe carefully poured a bit of whiskey into a paper cup for Henry, who also carefully positioned it between his hands and raised it to his lips. He took a long sip and gingerly placed it back down onto the coffee table. Only then was he aware of Jo and Abe's eyes on him. He could sense that they both wanted very much to help him handle the drink, and this was precisely why he had decided to move forward with his Plan B.

"Jo, if you believe me, then, please help me out of my present situation."

"I don't ... understand what you mean, Henry."

He explained more to her about his immortality and how it worked. About the East River and that his repeated appearances and arrests there had nothing to do with sleepwalking or skinny dipping. "I need to do this, Jo. I'll be all healed afterward. My career, my life here, can be salvaged." He desperately searched her face for an answer. "It's the only way, Jo. Will you help me?" His heart fell when she looked him slowly up and down, something akin to fear in her eyes. He exchanged a worried look with Abe. Then she surprised them both when she softly replied, "Yes".

vvvv

Change in plans:

My daughter, who is my biggest supporter and biggest critic, says I got lazy with the end of this story. Without revealing all of her criticisms (still pulling the slings and arrows from my heart and wiping the egg off of my face), all I can say is there will be more after this now very short chapter. I'm not up for a double-digit amount of chapters, though, but the next chapter is being written as soon as this one is updated with this blurb. So, like the lead singer said, "One mo' time!" LOL


	4. A Good Reason to Die Ch 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo presents a Plan C to Henry that does not involve his death. He balks at it and thinks of taking matters into his own hands and bringing about his own death in order to have a quick recovery. Abe decides that Jo's way is better. What will Henry do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters. Neither do I know how to get those Notes at the bottom of the page about the news blurbs, deleted, since they only pertain to the first chapter. And Jo's Plan C regarding a doctor in Switzerland with a miracle treatment for burns is purely fictional. But I hope that on behalf of all burn victims, one day it will be true.

_"I need to do this, Jo... I'll be all healed afterwards...Will you help me?" His heart fell when she looked him slowly up and down, something akin to fear in her eyes...she surprised them both when she softly replied, "Yes"._

vvvv

Her one-word response fell heavily upon him. It should have made him happy, but it didn't. His throat went dry and he felt that his face was wearing a frown instead of a smile. One look at the deep concern on his son's face confirmed his suspicions. It dawned on him that his unhappiness stemmed from the fact that she was a police officer, sworn to uphold the law, to protect the civilian public, himself, included. And now, he had just gotten her to agree to --- in effect --- murder him. But she had agreed, and he strongly felt that this was his only viable option. He stood up and suddenly felt unsure of what the next step should be. Then, he remembered the small vial of poison still in his coat pocket.

"Thank you, Jo. I know this can't be easy for you."

"It's never easy," Abe said under his breath as he sat in his chair and stared into his drink.

"How exactly do you want me to help you, Henry?" Jo asked with some trepidation in her voice; unsure of what she would hear, but pretty sure that she wasn't going to like it.

He laid out his plan to her about the poison he would take, and, after his death, rebirth, and immediate healing, the cabin upstate where he would hide for several months as a cover for the pretense of his treatment and recovery abroad. "It's foolproof," he said. "Admittedly, there are some aspects of it that will require more attention --- "

"No," she quietly interrupted.

"But --- a moment ago you said that you would --- " Henry began, confused.

Jo sat up straight and repeated, "No."

Stunned, Henry quickly sat down beside her. The right words escaped him at the moment, and a nervous smile danced over his features. "Jo, this is the only way --- "

"It isn't the only way, Henry." She cleared her throat and continued. "There have been many breakthroughs in reconstructive surgery in other countries. Switzerland comes to mind. There's a doctor there named," she snapped her fingers, "It'll come to me later, but you don't have to go through anything so drastic as to, to, kill yourself to get your looks back to --- "

"Normal." His voice resonated deeply with anger into the room. "That's what you were about to say, isn't it?"

"Da-had, take it easy." Abe chuckled nervously and reached over to pat him on the knee. "Maybe she's got something there."

"Melchior Ander- something ... -halden, Anderhalden! That's his name: Melchior Anderhalden," Jo exclaimed. In her excitement, she either ignored or was unaware of, his angry response. Instead, she was surprised that she remembered the doctor's name and more surprised that she could pronounce it. She turned to fully face Henry. "He's known worldwide for having treated those burn victims from an oilfield fire in Iraq last year. Those men's injuries were much worse than yours but once he worked his magic on them, you could hardly tell that they'd ever suffered any kind of injury at all." She was breathless now as she expounded more on Dr. Anderhalden's breakthrough in cell and tissue regrowth using the genetic code unique to each individual patient's DNA. "Best of all, Henry, his treatments left scar tissue so microscopic as to be nonexistent." She happily beamed at him, but when he didn't seem to reciprocate, her smile faltered, her shoulders slumped a bit, and she looked desperately to Abe for support.

It wasn't what Henry had wanted to hear. It would mean he'd face months of surgeries with no real guarantee of a positive outcome. He'd kept up with the latest medical journals. Why hadn't he heard of this Anderhassen or whatever his bloody name was? His plan was the better plan. Quicker. Cleaner. Safer. Why couldn't they see it _his_ way? Hang the consequences, he'd do it all by himself if he had to. He looked around the room and realized he'd left the couch and now faced the window that looked out onto the alley and street below.

"It does sound like a better way to go, Pops," Abe softly but firmly suggested.

"So you're taking _her_ side?" he angrily accused.

"There are no sides, here, Henry," Abe said defensively. "It's just what's best for you," he insisted. He was at his father's side now. "I think you should do it." It was more a plea than a suggestion.

"She now knows you're my son, Abraham," he quietly hissed through his teeth.

Abe frowned and backed away a bit. He wasn't used to his father exhibiting so much anger towards him. And he didn't know why. "Meaning --- ?"

"You don't have to address me by my given name right now." His head dropped a bit as his anger dissipated. "A little respect," he quietly added.

"You're worried about ... Okay. Okay, Pops." Abe felt it best to appease his father, who appeared to be in a very fragile emotional state at the moment. He patted Henry's shoulder lightly because he didn't know how much pressure would cause him discomfort. He became aware of Jo's presence as she came to stand on the other side of Henry.

Henry couldn't help but smile as he continued to gaze out onto the street below. "I'm now sandwiched between the two people who mean the most to me in this world, and they are both telling me to take the long, hard journey instead of the quick and easy way out." His voice had mellowed with a touch of humor in it.

Jo and Abe responded in the affirmative, their heads bobbing up and down.

Henry sighed and shook his head. "I don't understand ... "

Jo and Abe both began, in frustration, to explain their positions again.

" ... why ... I ... am agreeing to it." He pulled his lips in but chuckled softly.

Abe rolled his eyes, shook his head and walked back over to the coffee table to refresh his drink.

Jo smirked and replied, "Glad you're finally seeing it our way." She kissed him softly on the scruff on the left side of his cheek. "And stop referring to me in the third person." She raised an eyebrow at him as he turned a surprised, smiling face to her. "A little respect," she stated and turned and walked back to the couch and sat back down. She patted the cushioned seat next to her, wordlessly directing Henry to it. He smiled, rolled his eyes, and wordlessly obeyed. The late hour, however, forced them to agree to meet again to discuss the details of what turned out to be Henry's Plan C road to recovery.

 


	5. A Good Reason to Die Ch 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Melchior Anderhalden welcomes Henry and two other burn victims to his clinic in Zurich, Switzerland. He is disappointed to find out that his treatment will be somewhat delayed. He then reconsiders Plan B (immediate healing from self-death). Will he abandon Jo's Plan C (long journey of normal treatment and recovery) or switch back to his Plan B (quick healing via self-death)?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

_Henry sighed and shook his head. "I don't understand ... why ... I ... am agreeing to it."_

_Abe rolled his eyes, shook his head and walked back over to the coffee table to refresh his drink._

_Jo ... replied, "Glad you're finally seeing it our way."_

vvvv

The burn clinic's facade was that of a classic, medieval, castle-like structure on the outskirts of Zurich, in a fairytale-like setting near a dense, wooded area and the proverbial babbling brook. At any moment, Henry expected to see Hansel and Gretel or some other fairybook character emerge from the woods and prance down the narrow, dirt path that gave way to a circular, brick driveway. But, he had to admit that, true to the claims in the brochure and on their web site, it was a tranquil, secluded setting. As he and two others exited the clinic's van that had picked them up from the airport and brought them there, he saw a man stride quickly and confidently towards them, his white lab coat flapping behind him. He approached them with a broad smile and clipboard in hand. His full head of flaxen blond hair settled just below his collar once he came to a stop. Tall, muscular, and clean-shaven with bright, blue eyes, he had more the look of a movie superhero than a doctor. And perhaps a bit too young-looking and untried considering the purported number of years he'd practiced medicine.

"Grüezi mitenand! I heisse --- " (Hello, everyone! My name is ---) he abruptly stopped and then continued in flawless English with no trace of an accent, Henry noted. "Forgive me. Sometimes I forget that not everyone speaks the language here. I'm Dr. Melchior Anderhalden and I am the chief physician here at the Klinik Brennan (burn clinic). I'd like to welcome you all. If you'll just follow the people (orderlies in short-sleeved white shirts, pants, and shoes) handling your luggage, they will see you to your rooms." He motioned slightly behind him and a young, female orderly stepped forward to push the wheelchair of one of his traveling companions, a 12-year-old boy with scalp and facial scarring to the right side of his face. The other, a woman in her early 40's, with extensive facial, neck and scalp scarring, followed the men handling their individual luggage. Henry smiled at the doctor and stepped away to follow the woman handling his own luggage.

"Uh, excuse me, Dr. Morgan," Anderhalden said, putting a hand up in front of Henry to stop him. He nodded at the orderly, who continued on into the clinic with Henry's luggage. He turned to face Henry again and lowered his hand. "I know it was a long trip for you and you must be exhausted, but," he paused to take a breath, "if I could see you in my office for ... just a moment?"

Henry watched the woman with his luggage disappear into the building and hesitated for a second. "Yes. Yes, of course," he replied and followed Anderhalden to his office.

Once they were seated in the office, Anderhalden immediately rose and walked around his desk to be closer to Henry. "Your injuries are not as extensive as the other two patients who arrived with you. For that reason, (a surge of hope sprang up in Henry because he was sure he would be treated first) they will be receiving treatment first."

Disappointed and confused, Henry demanded to know why.

"They require more time for their treatment, doctor. As a medical man, yourself, I'm sure that you can appreciate the importance of triage. Here at the clinic, we follow the rules of the Emergency Severity Index."

Yes, Henry thought to himself. The rules employed in Emergency Rooms and on battlefields to tier patients in order of the severity and immediacy of their need. "According to the ESI, I can safely wait longer for treatment."

Anderhalden's worried face broke into a relieved smile. "I'm glad that you understand and agree, doctor."

Henry abruptly stood up from his chair. "Oh, I do understand --- _doctor_." He laid as much anger as he could onto that title that he now doubted was real. "I never said that I agreed."

"Dr. Morgan, please. It's clear that your expectations may have exceeded --- "

"It's clear that I may have made a huge mistake by coming here in the first place!" He felt betrayed. The website, the brochure, the hype, all said one thing but this bloody charlatan was saying another!

"Doctor, I can appreciate your disappointment right now, but you'll thank me once this is all over."

"I'll thank you for someone to show me to my room, please." Henry fought to control his anger.

Anderhalden eyed Henry for a few seconds, then sighed and quietly replied, "Of course." He opened the door to his office that led to the nurses' station.

Henry followed a few paces behind him and if he'd been able to, his fists would have been balled up. As he drew closer to the nurses' station, Anderhalden turned around to face him.

"Stefan will show you to your room, Doctor." Anderhalden paused awkwardly and added, "Please consult the itinerary posted in your room, Dr. Morgan. You are still scheduled for an examination and evaluation with me tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM."

Henry's anger did not allow his eyes to meet Anderhalden's. He nodded only slightly and said nothing as Anderhalden returned to his office.

vvvv

It was well past midnight and Henry was wide awake. He'd only slept a couple of hours after dinner and that was from the pure exhaustion of jet lag. His head pounded with a tension headache. The anger that had built up in him earlier was still there in the form of a bitter taste in his mouth. And this headache! He wearily rose from the bed and realized that he still had his street clothes on. Even his shoes. He sighed as he turned on the light over the vanity in the small restroom. Surprisingly, there were small packets of two Tylenol each in the medicine chest. He broke open a packet, downed both pills and filled a Dixie cup with water to wash them down. Before turning off the light, he wondered if a shower would help relax him before trying to sleep again. Then he heard the screams and ran out of his room into the hall. There were only two other patients besides him on this corridor: the 12-year-old boy and the woman in her 40's, who had ridden up there with him from the airport. It was the boy who was screaming.

Nightmares, Henry concluded. He'd had them at different times over the past two centuries for one reason or another. Abraham had had them for a while after he'd returned from Vietnam. Various members of the clinic's staff quickly converged on the boy's room. A security guard held him and the female patient at bay.

"Nothing to see here, folks," the guard announced, giving his best imitation of an actual cop at a crime scene. "Best that you return to your rooms."

"I'm a doctor, myself. If I can be of any assistance --- "

"Thank you, Doctor, but that won't be necessary. The clinic's medical staff have the situation under control. Now, please, the both of you; return to your rooms."

"We're just concerned for the little fella," the woman said. "I have three kids of my own." She looked at the door to the boy's room and shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Poor thing."

The security guard was not budging from his position and kindly, but firmly directed them away from the area. Henry and the woman reluctantly turned and walked back towards their respective rooms. He was sure that they had introduced themselves to each other during the ride from the airport earlier, but he couldn't recall their conversation. Jet lag. Indifference. Doubt. Definitely distraction. He didn't know what to blame it on, but he just didn't remember.

"We spoke earlier in the van ride from the airport," he said softly. He tried to dredge up her name from the memory of their brief conversation, but couldn't. Then, he noticed the large, scripted 'V B' on the lapel of her purple velour bathrobe. Virginia, he remembered. Virginia Bateman. "Virginia, isn't it?" he asked, managing a polite smile.

"Yes, you're Henry. A doctor." She smiled politely back at him and lowered her eyes and shook her head again. "That poor little boy." She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "It was his own father, you know." Her voice was suddenly harsh and grim.

Henry frowned. "His father ... ?" He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at what she might say next.

"That did that to him. Set him on fire." She shook her head and wrung her hands as she cursed the man under her breath. "You and I, we're adults. We've managed to live at least part of our lives normally. Grow up, marry, have kids." She pointed to herself. "Have a career." She nodded towards Henry. "He's going to have such a hard time even growing up if Dr. Anderhalden's treatment can't help him." She dabbed at her eyes with a kleenex.

Henry was appalled at this news. "How do you know that it was his father?"

"Well, it was in all the papers and on the news." She looked at Henry. "Well, at least in my neck of the woods, I guess. Didn't make it down the pipeline to ... where are you from again?"

"New York City."

She nodded, "Yes, New York City. The Big Apple wouldn't know about our small town goings on, I guess." She gave a small laugh and cast an apologetic look towards him. "No offense."

"None taken," he assured her. "But what exactly happened? How could his own father have done such a terrible thing to him?" He wanted to know and yet he didn't want to know. It was these types of crimes that utterly sickened him. The thought of him ever harming his own son had never crossed his mind. It wasn't in his nature. Only to protect Abraham, not ever to harm him.

"I suppose in his defense, you could say it was an accident. Apparently, he was drunk. Again. And he was abusing the boy's mother. The boy had gotten tired of seeing his father mistreat his mother, so he tried to step in and defend her. The father knocked him aside and he landed with his head in the campfire where an open fire was roaring."

Henry grimaced at the thought of it all.

She noticed his reaction and said, "I know." She continued. "Anyway, they managed to pull him away from the fire and douse the flames. The father had served a couple years in Fallujah. Said he suffered from PTSD. Anyway, he grabbed the boy and kept him in the river to cool his burns until the mother came back with medical help." She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes again. "A shame. A complete shame."

"Sounds as though it was an accident. At least, the boy's father didn't intentionally set out to harm him."

She looked at him indignantly. "Was what happened to you an accident?" she asked roughly.

He pursed his lips and his features darkened. "No. It was done deliberately by a deranged individual who was unhappy at seeing happy couples everywhere."

Her mouth fell open. "That's what the cops told me. Some crazy guy who had no life and didn't want nobody else to be happy. Targeted happy-looking couples." Her sobs consumed her. She struggled to compose herself. "We were on vacation in your lovely New York City. I had a good life." Her lips trembled, her voice shook with sadness and anger. "Three beautiful children, a beautiful home. A loving and devoted husband." She turned an angry face towards Henry. "Or so I thought." She dabbed at her eyes with the now soaked kleenex. Henry realized that they were standing in front of a small break room. He went in and returned to her with a handful of paper towels.

"Sorry." He handed them to her. "Only thing available, I'm afraid."

"Thank you," she said as he took them from him and dabbed at her eyes, then loudly blew her nose. "Ugh," she exclaimed at the roughness of the towel against her nose as she wiped it.

Henry extended an arm towards the small break room. "There's coffee in here, I think. Perhaps a cup will help calm you." She nodded and followed him inside. She sat at the bench-style table and looked around.

"You have somebody? Back in New York City?"

Henry smiled at the thought of Jo. "I like to think so." He searched the cabinets for ground coffee but found none. The closest thing available was the jar of instant coffee on the counter. He cringed at it but decided to make them each a cup anyway.

"I'm sorry, but could you --- " He held out the jar to Virginia. "You see, I can't ... really ... "

"Oh, of course." She took the jar, opened it and handed it back to him.

"Thank you." He was pretty sure he could handle the rest of the preparation. And her question played again in his mind: did he have somebody back home? He knew that he loved Jo and he sincerely hoped that she didn't just feel sorry for him, and that was the reason why she'd been so helpful and supportive of him after the attack. No, he reminded himself. She does love me. How else would she be able to put up with someone as stubborn and set in his ways as he was? He gingerly placed one cup of piping hot coffee in front of her and sat across from her with his own. "Let me rephrase that."

She blew several times on the coffee before taking a quick sip. "Hmmm?"

"You asked if I have somebody back home. Yes, I do." He smiled, remembering Jo fighting back tears as she waved goodbye to him at the airport. "Yes, indeed, I do."

"Well, that's great. I wish you nothing but the best. Hope for your sake that she's genuine." She blew on the coffee a few more times and took another quick sip. "Everything was ruined after that crazy guy attacked me. My husband said I don't look like a babe anymore," she said sarcastically as she placed one hand mimically on her hip and rocked her head from side to side. She stared down into her coffee cup. "My husband hung in there with me for a little while, but one day I got divorce papers." She shook her head in disbelief. "But for some reason, he must have felt guilty and he called off the divorce." She looked at Henry with a look of determination on her face. "He thinks that just because he paid for all of this, for me to have this expensive treatment, that I won't remember that he was ready to bail on me. Abandon me and the kids." She sniffed into the paper towel. "Or just take the kids away from me and abandon me." She swallowed and took another sip of the truly distasteful brew. "Well, I got a surprise for him. I'm hoping that this treatment works and I can get my looks back. Then, we'll see who files for divorce."

Henry frowned but said nothing. Her plan of vengeance made him uncomfortable. Okay, the guy was a heel, but he came to his senses. But this wasn't his life. Not his decision. Thank God. He wondered for a fleeting moment if she would be willing to trade places with him. If only he had to make the decision of whether or not to seek a divorce. Instead of whether or not to kill himself and be done with this whole situation. Yes, it was still in the back of his mind. And after what Anderhalden told him in his office, he wasn't quite sure anymore that Plan C was better than Plan B.

"Good night, Doctor Henry." She rose from her seat, poured the rest of the coffee down the drain, and tossed the empty cup into the waste bin. "Nice of you to fix me a cup, but --- " she shook her head, "awful tastin' stuff."

Henry smiled and nodded in agreement. "Good night, Mrs. Virginia." He dumped the horrid liquid down the sink, as well, and tossed the cup into the waste bin. "So much for coffee," he ruefully remarked to himself.

Back in his room, he showered and changed into a pajama bottom. As he drifted off to sleep, he recalled his conversation with Anderhalden regarding triage. He grudgingly admitted that the doctor was right in having placed him third on the list for treatment. The boy and Virginia should rightfully be treated before him. He didn't mind anymore. He prayed for all their sakes that Anderhalden was the wizard he professed to be.

vvvv

Foreign phrases from <http://wikitravel.org/en/Swiss-German_phrasebook>

ESI information obtained from

[ https://www.ahrq.gov/professionals/systems/hospital/esi/esi1.html ](https://www.ahrq.gov/professionals/systems/hospital/esi/esi1.html)


	6. A Good Reason to Die Ch 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anderhalden comes clean with Henry. Virginia Bateman shares that she is still adamant in her decision of a plan of revenge by beauty against her husband. Henry makes a crucial decision of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters but I miss the show and THEN some!

_Back in his room, he showered and changed into a pajama bottom. As he drifted off to sleep, he recalled his conversation with Anderhalden regarding triage. He grudgingly admitted that the doctor was right in having placed him third on the list for treatment. The boy and Virginia should rightfully be treated before him. He didn't mind anymore. He prayed for all their sakes that Anderhalden was the wizard he professed to be._

vvvv

Henry stood at the edge of the driveway just outside the clinic's front entrance, peering down the roadway in expectation of the mail truck. Thankfully, he had grown more adept at opening and closing his pocket watch (although, still awkwardly), and he checked the time to make sure he hadn't missed the day's pickup and delivery. He looked forward to the occasional letter from Abe and/or Jo. He nodded and smiled politely to Virginia Bateman as she returned from her daily walk and approached him with a playful smile on her face, her dark brown eyes flashing, her hips swaying.

"Email is quicker, you know."

He grinned, looked down at the ground, then back up at her. "Yes, I suppose it is, but ... " he raised his hands up (index and middle fingers missing from the left, the tips of the remaining six fingers and left thumb gone; right thumb intact) and pointed out, "these haven't exactly obeyed many of my commands lately." He didn't feel the need to share with her that he hadn't been very proficient with a computer even before the attack. Although he'd turned down Anderhalden's offer of helping him create a video diary that could be used to update loved ones occasionally, he appreciated the alternative of Anderhalden taking still photos of him and helping him include them in his written replies to their letters. Not exactly written, though. More like printed text from the use of a special speech-to-text software program. It wasn't as personal as responding in his own handwriting, which he missed terribly, but the wording was still from his heart.

"Well, it's nice that anyone takes time to write nowadays," she replied. In a softer tone, she added, "Your time will come, Henry." She stood back from him and spread her arms out. "Look at the progress I've made in the last two months." She spun merrily around and stopped to face him again with a big smile. "First time in a long time I've been able to wear makeup," she happily shared. Her pale but healthy-looking skin looked even paler against the bright, red lipstick and rouge on her face. A bit too garish for his tastes, but it was her life and if it made her happy, who was he to complain? As she fluffed her regrown, thick, black, shoulder-length hair with her fingers, she announced, "I'm almost back to 'babe' status. Dr. Anderhalden is truly a miracle worker! And isn't it great that the little guy, Robbie, is leaving tomorrow? Dr. Anderhalden's treatments have regrown the muscle and tissue on his face and scalp, regrown his hair. Such a cute kid, he is. Or was. Back to how he was." She shook her head and smiled. "I'm so glad for him." She looked at Henry and blinked back tears. "He can grow up and live a normal life."

"Yes, it's really remarkable the progress he's made in just a little over a month." Probably because of his young age, Henry speculated. "It would seem that your Dr. Anderhalden is what he claims to be: a miracle worker."

"Henry, he's _your_ Doctor, too," she reminded him and patted his shoulder. "Your turn will come, just like I said." She smiled at the approaching mail truck. "My kids email me the most adorable selfies." She scoffed and said, "I just delete the pics of my husband. And I edit him out of the ones with our kids. Have I got a big surprise in store for _him_ when I get back home."

He stiffened slightly but felt it best not to comment on her vengeful plans concerning her husband.

"If you change your mind and need help with emailing, just let me know. But no smutty stuff to your girlfriend." She fixed a determined look and pointed a finger at him. "You guys handle that kinda stuff yourselves."

He looked away from her to hide his blush, but her blunt language still amused him a bit.

They followed, from a safe distance, a mildly annoyed mailperson into the building and watched him complete his tasks and leave with a grumble and scratching his head. There hadn't been anything for him in the past three days. Perhaps today, he hoped. And he hoped that the office personnel would inspect, sort, and distribute the mail quickly. He suddenly remembered Virginia's earlier comments about the marked progress in her recovery.

"I didn't think it was possible before, but you do appear to be even lovelier now than when you first arrived here. Congratulations on your progress."

"Oh!" She hit him playfully on his shoulder. "What a charmer you are," she laughed. "And that accent of yours makes things sound so much more elegant than they really are. No wonder you've got somebody back home writin' letters to you."

"Dr. Morgan?" Dr. Anderhalden's voice came from behind him. He turned around to see the doctor standing just outside his office door. "Henry. May I have a word with you, please?"

"Yes. I'll be right in." He turned back to Virginia and dipped his head in parting. She smiled and held up both of her hands with crossed fingers, and walked away, down the hall.

Anderhalden held the door open for Henry as he entered his office. As Henry took a seat in one of the plush armchairs facing the doctor's desk, Anderhalden closed the door and walked over to Henry with a grim look on his face. Henry frowned slightly and held his breath for what he felt would be bad news.

Anderhalden's face was clouded with concern, but he finally spoke. "I've tried to manipulate your DNA, Henry, tried everything that I know to unlock that code hidden inside it, but ... it just won't let me." He slapped his hand down on the top of his thigh, thoroughly disgusted with himself and his own efforts. "It's as if it's fighting me; as if it has a mind of its own!" He rubbed his hand across his mouth and then palm-faced himself. He let his hand drop and slumped into his desk chair.

Henry's heart plummeted to the bottom of his feet. Anderhalden's methods, his treatments, had worked wonders with the boy, Robbie, and with Mrs. Bateman. Neither of them looked anything like they did when they'd all arrived nearly two months ago. His confidence in the doctor's abilities had grown to the point where he felt that he should probably abandon his healing-by-suicide Plan B. For, beyond all else, he was also hoping that the doctor would inadvertently unlock the secret of his immortality via his DNA. That's really the only reason he'd remained there as long as he had. The doctor's discoveries, none like he had ever seen, had thoroughly intrigued him and given him hope. False hope, it would seem.

"What do you mean it's fighting you, that it won't allow you to manipulate it?"

"Like it has a mind of its own. Your DNA chain ... " his voice trailed off.

Henry swallowed, his heartbeat increased. "Are you saying that my DNA is different from Robbie's and Mrs. Bateman's?"

"Not just different from theirs, different from that of any other patient I've ever treated. Different from anyone else's I've ever seen." The doctor, his face pinched, leaned forward and looked at Henry. "Doctor, I don't believe there's anything I can do to help you. At least, not with my method." He sighed and leaned back. "You'll have to submit to the normal process of surgeries and physical therapy."

"I, I don't ... I mean, I was hoping that ... you ... and your ... your advanced method ... " Okay, he thought to himself. I leave, do it my way. The sooner the better. But the medical professional that he was, couldn't leave it there without at least a more complete explanation. "Can you explain more clearly to me why your methods will not work on me? Can you at least show me some of the problems you've encountered while trying to manipulate my DNA?" He had to know. Even if there was nothing he, himself could do with the doctor's findings, at least he might understand better a bit of the puzzle that apparently worked within him and kept him from experiencing a permanent death or normal aging.

Anderhalden quietly studied Henry for a moment. "Alright, Henry, I'll show you. I owe you that much, at least." He abandoned his desk chair for the plush armchair next to Henry. He then turned his large computer monitor around to face them and pulled the wireless keyboard over to him. He clicked on "H M file" to open it and clicked again. A section of the familiar spiral of a DNA chain displayed on half of the screen.

"Here." He tapped again and clicked the mouse. "That's yours and this (he tapped again and clicked the mouse) is a section of a normal DNA chain. Mine, actually." He leaned back a bit and eyed Henry. "Do you see the differences between the two?"

Henry's eyes widened as he viewed the two images. His heart pounded in his ears now. He suddenly realized that he may have placed himself in a precarious situation involving the discovery of his secret. "I ... can see that they are a bit different from each other, yes," he managed to calmly reply. 

"A bit? Doctor, there's a _vast_ difference between the two! For one thing, the cellular age encoded in your DNA is at war with itself; it's unable to advance. Something like this." He held up his left fist. "And some mysterious force standing in the way of it is like this." He pushed his right fist against his left and neither one gave way to the other. He clicked and the images enlarged a bit. "Sorry, that's a layman's explanation. A more scientific explanation is that chromosomes are organized in the cell and are either expanded or folded up compactly, ultimately determining functions of different cell types or regulating the cell cycle. Normally, that is."

Henry understood and nodded for him to continue.

"However, _none_ of your chromosomes are expanded. And I've tried everything I know to expand them but to no avail. Also, the DNA of humans is composed of approximately 3 billion base pairs, making up a total of almost a meter-long stretch of DNA in every cell in our bodies. _Your_ DNA contains approximately _30_ billion base pairs, making up a total of almost a 10-meter-long stretch of DNA in every cell in your body! Of course, it stands to reason that they are also more minute and more compact than any other I've ever seen." He sat back in his chair, leaning away from Henry, and eyed him with a look of both wonder and resignation.

Henry's discomfort level was elevated under his scrutiny. It was a mistake for him to have come here, he knew it. He _knew_ it! Why did he ever agree to this? He could kick himself. But, of course, he knew why. Love. He laughed at himself, _to_ himself. Love was the greatest persuader of fools and old men. And he was both. Love had made him trust Nora with his secret. And he'd suffered the dire consequences, as a result, after she betrayed him and had him locked up in an insane asylum. Again, it was love that had ruled over his better judgment when he'd decided to include Abigail and baby Abraham in his mystery-shrouded life. And, once again, he'd suffered the heartbreak of Abigail's eventual departure when she aged normally to the point of being mistaken for his mother. And even though he had managed to maintain a relationship with his son, it hadn't been easy. And it was only going to get worse when Abe's mortal time on this earth finally ran out, and he would lose him, too. His love for Jo, and for Abe, had allowed him to be persuaded to take this normal healing route so as to minimize any suspicions from anyone else surrounding his recovery.

He was surprised, however, that Anderhalden failed to mention the superfluous amount of antibodies in his blood. Or the strange scar on his chest that indicated he'd once suffered a gunshot wound from a weapon that probably hadn't been manufactured in centuries. It was time to end this foolishness, though. He stood and thanked the doctor and walked towards the door.

Anderhalden watched him as he was leaving his office. "Dr. Morgan. Aren't you forgetting something?"

His hand was on the doorknob but he turned around and was surprised when Anderhalden handed him the computer disc. "You might want to hang onto this. Your medical record. Everything's there." He shrugged and said, "I suspect that the type of treatment you require is totally outside my realm of knowledge. But I would be honored to help you explore any and all possibilities whenever you're ready."

Henry's eyes met his as he took the disc from him. There was something in the doctor's eyes, an awareness and ... kindness ... pity, perhaps. Whatever suspicions Anderhalden may have about him, Henry felt certain that he would share them with no one. "Thank you, Dr. Anderhalden. For everything." They shook hands and Henry opened the door and turned to leave. He paused when Anderhalden spoke again.

"Remember. Two heads are better than one. Goodbye and good luck."

Henry smiled and nodded and closed the door. Once back inside his room, he happily noticed two envelopes addressed to him on his pillow. One was from Jo and the other from Abe and ... a postcard, hidden underneath the two, from ... Lucas. He flipped it over and saw a smiling Lucas hugging and towering over an older couple, presumably his parents. A few hastily scrawled sentences confirmed his suspicions. _"Hey, Doc: Having a great time in Disney World with Mom and Dad. Probably gained about 10 pounds at the buffets. Love the buffets and the rides. Miss ya much, Big Guy. Dr. Washington's having a PO fit every day. Give one of those Swiss Misses a kiss for me. Lucas."_ Henry chuckled softly. He had to admit that he also missed his young assistant.

Next, he read Abe's short, terse letter, mostly about how overworked he was manning the shop's duties all alone; having to cook and eat meals all alone; developing a bad habit of talking to himself because now he was all alone. He smiled and felt the sting of tears at his closing: _Burn this letter after you read it. Wouldn't want anyone to read that I miss you, Pops. And I think you're very brave to do this. Can't wait for your return. I love you. Now, that's all the mush you're going to get out of me for a while, so just get yourself beautiful again and come back home. Bye! Abe (and a smiley face)."_ Henry smiled. He could almost hear his son's voice as he read the letter. "I love you, too, son," he whispered as he returned the letter to its envelope.

Now. Jo's letter. He always saved hers for last. Apologies to everyone else, but he liked reading her letters and then falling asleep afterward and dreaming of her. It didn't always work, but sometimes it did. And those dreams where they were together, dancing, strolling, laughing, kissing, were always delightful, warm, and always felt so real. In his dreams he was always whole again and could clasp her hand in his, cup her face with both of his hands, twirl her around a dance floor masterfully as he held her hand in his. It was too early in the day for him to feel sleepy enough to even take a nap, but he could close his eyes and imagine. He held her letter to his chest, right over his scar and imagined. For just a little while he could put off planning his departure from the clinic and decide where and when he would execute his Plan B. Execute? What an ironic word choice, he realized. But for now, these moments were for Jo and him in his imaginings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read more at: https://phys.org/news/2016-04-scientists-secrets-dna-sequence.html#jCp
> 
> and http://www.nobelprize.org/educational/medicine/dna_double_helix/readmore.html


	7. A Good Reason to Die Ch 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry carries out his Plan B of self-demise/quick healing and returns to New York. He plans to hide out an appropriate amount of time in his vacation cabin in upstate New York, and resume his life and career there and his relationship with Jo. But he has an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.

_Anderhalden ... finally spoke. "I've tried to manipulate your DNA ... to unlock that code hidden inside it, but ... it just won't let me."_

_Henry's heart plummeted to the bottom of his feet ... Okay, he thought to himself. I leave, do it my way. The sooner the better._

vvvv

Henry stood outside the vacation cabin in Spring Valley, that he and Abigail had bought back in the late 1950's. It was a village about an hour and a half north of New York City, and had been much more secluded and less populated back then. Now, there were vacation homes everywhere you looked. It was a good thing, he realized, that he hadn't planned his self-demise for quick healing here, after all. Most of these vacation homes were occupied on a year-round basis, thanks to several online rental sites. It most likely would have been impossible for him to have escaped detection emerging naked from the frigid lake.

He took his luggage from the rental car --- provided free of charge, courtesy of Anderhalden's efforts --- and carried it up onto the porch. It had been years, decades, since he'd been there. It was a good thing that Abe had retreated there more often than he had because it was clean and still in good shape. _'Thank you, Abe._ ' Once inside, he put the luggage onto the bed in the small bedroom nearest the livingroom and small kitchenette. He then returned to the livingroom and made a fire, remembering to check and open the flue. Thankfully, there was enough chopped wood in the woodpile outside for that. _'Thank you again, Abe.'_

He searched the cabinets for where he remembered the tea kettle and tea bags were kept and smiled when he found them. Not the best way to have tea, he lamented, but at least it was Earl Grey. He put the kettle on to boil, washed and prepared a cup and utensils, and sat down to relax on the couch to warm himself before the fire. It had been a long flight home, but this time he'd made it as a passenger with a healed body instead of a damaged one. He leaned back and looked admiringly at his healed hands and flexed them several times (fingers extended, then closed into tight fists, then again and again). He wiggled his fingers vigorously as if he were a pianist masterfully executing a difficult but beautiful concerto. He stopped when a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh escaped his throat. Then, he closed his eyes and rolled the events of the past few months over in his mind. Just as his thoughts led him to the moment when he'd finally managed to kill himself, the kettle whistled. He quickly went and removed the kettle from the fire and prepared his cup. As he stirred milk and sugar into his tea, he walked back to the couch and sat back down. After a few sips, he picked up his thought trail where he'd left off.

vvvv

_Four days prior ..._

_Given the popularity of naturist camps and nude lake swimming in Switzerland, Henry had realized it would be easier for him to carry out his plan and avoid detection at the same time. A naked man emerging from a lake would be less of a spectacle there than it would be (had been) in New York. And, with Anderhalden's help, he had managed to secure a return flight to New York, the afternoon of Anderhalden's admission that his method of burn treatment could not be used on Henry since his DNA had resisted against manipulation._

_Two days later, he was on a flight back to New York. However, shortly before leaving the clinic for the airport, he'd taken a walk in the woods and found a spot near the edge of the babbling brook at it's widest point, where it actually became a good-sized lake. It felt strange, not needing to hide. He'd relieved himself of all clothing, folded and rolled them and placed them neatly into the small satchel he'd brought along. Shoes, socks, everything. He'd patted the towel inside the satchel to reassure himself that he hadn't forgotten it, then zipped it close. Next, he'd retrieved the plastic letter opener with the serrated edges he'd been using to open Abe's and Jo's letters to him. He'd managed to file the serrations down and sharpen the edge to a razor-like finish. If he was going to do this, it had to be quick and clean. Now or never, he'd told himself as he'd walked into the frigid waters. It had briefly crossed his mind that hypothermia might be the end of him before he could slit his throat. Stick to the plan, he'd reminded himself. And, once submerged deeply enough, he'd done the deed._

_He'd bobbed up like a cork as he'd broken through the waters. Immediately, his left hand had flown up to examine his left ear. Healed! Through his shivering swim back to shore, he'd noticed his hands and arms. Healed! The exhilaration he'd felt from the lake's chilly waters were enhanced by his feelings of unadulterated joy. Morgan was back! He could return home and hide for another month or so in the cabin. Then, back to his life in New York. Back to his friends and loved ones. And no one would be the wiser. He'd obtained a miracle treatment, that's all anyone would have to know._

_He'd quickly dried off and redressed himself. In order to hide his new physical condition from anyone at the clinic, he'd placed a large bandage over his ear and explained it away as helping him to not be so self-conscious during his return flight. And he'd made sure that his specially-designed gloves covered his hands, the ones with the side opening and velcro closing. As he'd returned to the clinic from his "walk", he'd breathed a sigh of relief when no one had questioned his appearance._

vvvv

Back at the cabin ...

He smiled as he recalled his memories of his time at the burn clinic. Especially, when he recalled how Virginia Bateman had melted into her husband's arms when he made a surprise visit to the clinic on the day of her release. All her talk about how she would make him pay for having hurt her when he'd served her with divorce papers shortly after her injuries, proved to be just that: talk. It warmed his heart to picture them, happy once again with their children and their married life. He envied them for that and imagined himself down on one knee, proposing to Jo, who, naturally, would accept. At least, in his imaginings.

His stomach growled a bit and he wondered if there was even anything to eat in the cabin. Just then, a knock at the door startled him. Was it Abe? He was the only one who might guess that he was here, even though he hadn't told him. The authorities? A neighbor? Game Warden? He opened the door and was pleasantly surprised to see Jo. By the look on her face, she was just as pleasantly surprised to see him.

"Henry!" She reached out and felt over his face and ear. She turned his face sideways so that his ear faced her straight on. "Wow. It's, it's ... you're all ... back." She shook her head, elated. "Oh, I'm so happy for you!" She released his face and flung her arms around his neck, then gave him a quick peck on the lips. "I told you that Dr. Anderhalden had some kind of miracle treatment. Nobody has to be suspicious of your miraculous recovery."

His pursed lips gave way to a weak smile of embarrassment, laced with guilt. "Yes, well, he does seem to have the magic touch." He stepped aside and she walked into the cabin.

"Nice little hideaway," she said, nodding and looking around. She held up a bag of takeout and said, "Thought you might like some Won Ton soup."

He thanked her and they moved near the couch and she placed the bag on the small end table. She began to remove her coat and he quickly stepped behind her to help. "Thanks," she said and sat down.

"Could I offer you some tea, Jo?" His voice carried from the back of the short hallway and became louder as he entered the living room again.

"No, thanks, I also brought a six-pack of beer," she replied. "I know it's not your favorite, but ... "

"Oh, no, it's fine. Fine." He racked his brain trying to figure out how she knew that he would be there at the cabin. He had never even told her about it --- Abraham. He sighed to himself and then frowned. How did Abraham know that he would be there instead of still at the clinic half a world away?

"Jo, um, how did you know to find me here?"

"Yummm, you should taste this soup, it's delicious." She took another bite and motioned him over with her spoon.

He slowly walked over and sat down next to her, but waited silently for her answer.

"Ummm, ummm, okay." She wiped her mouth and chewed quickly and swallowed. Her words came out in a rush. "Abe and I had planned to visit you, but we wanted it to be a surprise. So we called the clinic and spoke with Dr. Anderhalden. He told us that you had left already because his method of treatment --- "

Her rush of words alarmed him and he put a hand on her shoulder. "Jo. Jo."

" --- wouldn't work, something about your DNA being stubborn or uncooperative, --- "

"Jo. Calm down, calm down." He patted her shoulder and stroked the back of her hair.

" --- I don't know. Anyway ... " She halted her word avalanche and abandoned her cheery facade. She sighed and her shoulders drooped. In a less animated fashion and in a quieter tone, she explained that she and Abe had figured out that he had gone through with his self-demise plan, his Plan B. "Abe told me about the cabin and how to find it, so ... here I am." She smiled at him now, a sweet sorrow in her eyes.

He took her hand in both of his and rubbed and squeezed it. He laughed a little and said, "My son has always been just a little smarter than I. And you --- ," he lifted her hand up and kissed the back of it, "nothing gets past you." His lop-sided smile flattened out. "I just didn't want either of you to worry about me. And I can't go back to New York like this. At least, not yet, anyway. Can't take the risk of people questioning my too-soon recovery."

"How much longer, then?"

"Another four to five weeks, at least." He guesstimated that since his injuries had not been as extensive as Robbie's or Virginia's, that his proposed recovery time would be a couple weeks less than theirs had been.

She chuckled softly. "You're probably wondering why I just barreled in here like it was just another normal day, not questioning you, well ... " she paused and he could tell that she was fighting back tears. It broke his heart to see her this way.

"Jo, I'm fine now. Really." He bent his head down and gently lifted her chin to face him, and he gave her the happiest smile he could muster.

'I'm just trying to deal with all of this, you know? It's been kind of weird learning about your immortality, then seeing you suffer after you were attacked and hearing you plan your own death to get ... healed again ... " Her voice trailed off. "It, it's just that ... "

He braced himself for the rejection that he felt might be coming. "Yes, Jo, I know, everything about my condition is weird, my conversation is weird, my _life_ is weird because of it. I know." He swallowed and struggled to keep his emotions in check. "And I can totally understand if you're not ready for any of this --- "

"What? Who said --- Henry, I was just going to say that I wish I had been there with you, to, to help you ... so you didn't have to go through that all alone." She swiped at a few tears on her moist cheeks and muttered something about not wanting to be a crybaby. "You are not alone anymore, Henry Morgan," she said more forcefully. "Whatever it is that you're planning, thinking, going through, we do this together now. Understand me?"

He chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. What had he ever done right so that he deserved this beautiful, wonderful woman? "I totally understand," he laughingly replied and kissed her fully and longingly on the lips. He pulled back slightly and looked at her with a mockingly serious expression. "Alright. I am thinking and planning right now --- "

"Oh, you are, are you?"

"Yes, that I am about to make a mess of your hair and clothing. Mine, too, I warrant."

"And why is that?" she playfully countered.

"Well, once we start doing this (he kissed her again and slid his fingers up the back of her head and into her hair), and this (his hand then slid down and roamed and caressed the warm, tender parts of her body), there's no telling what damage will be done to our clothing." He planted kisses on one side of her neck to the other and smiled at her soft moans of delight.

They became aware of an incessant buzzing sound. Jo reluctantly pulled away. "My phone."

"Ummm, don't answer it," he groaned and pulled her closer.

She was panting with her eyes closed but she fought to clear her head of her desire for him. "No. Henry, I have to answer it." She'd placed her phone on the end table next to the takeout and she now reached over and grabbed it and answered it. "Martinez." Henry's hands on her, his kisses, were making her feel drunk with pleasure. Her heart was racing and she rested her head against his. "Ummm, yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Henry pulled her onto his lap and he nestled his face into her bosom. Her struggle to hold him at bay, to calm him down for a few minutes so she could converse intelligently with the caller, Mike Hanson, was admittedly a losing battle.

She jumped and had a sharp intake of breath when he began to graze his teeth then his tongue lightly over her skin from her bosom back up along the side of her neck. "Ummm, no, I'm fine. Nothing's wrong." She pushed a little more forcefully against him but he only smiled at her and resumed nuzzling her much to her chagrin, much to her delight, Oh! Henry! Ohhh!

"Yes. On my way." Thankfully, she ended the call. "That was my partner, Mike," she whined. "Never been so embarrassed. He probably knew what was going on, I can see his silly grin on the other end of the line. Oh! You!" She shook him harder and forced him to look at her again. When he did and showed her only a smug smile, she broke out into giggles. "What am I going to do with you? Are you always so playful?"

He breathed in deeply and appeared thoughtful. "No." He stared into her eyes. "Sometimes I am very serious." His voice tremored softly and deeply.

"Like now?" she whispered. Her eyes fell onto his lips, then back up to his amazing chocolate-brown eyes.

"Like now," he whispered, drinking her in, then, sighed into her lips with another passionate kiss.

"Ummm. Ummm." She managed to pull herself away from him. "Henry. Henry. I have to go."

"Noooo," he moaned and wrapped his arms around her waist even tighter.

"There's a body. They need me." She sighed as he begged her with those irresistible eyes of his.

He groaned again. "There's a body here, too, that needs you."

She somehow found the strength to ply his arms from around her and stand up. When she did, he gripped the backs of her thighs with one large hand each. He snuggled his face in against her belly button and sent warm, delightful glows up along her spine and to other parts of her body. The urge to give in to him and run her fingers through his soft curls was hard to resist, but she did, and managed to stifle a moan. When her legs threatened to buckle, she found the strength to finally extricate herself from his embrace.

She stepped away from him and softly repeated, "Gotta go." He hesitated a second or two, then nodded and went to go get her coat from the back bedroom. She closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths in order to compose herself. She opened her eyes when she felt him behind her and she let him help her on with her coat. She smiled at him and quickly walked around him and to the door. He beat her to the door and opened it for her. Ever the gentleman. As she walked off the porch and stood by her car, she turned and waved to him.

He walked to the edge of the porch with his hands shoved down into his pockets. "Will you be coming back soon?" he asked.

She opened the car door and nodded. "Just try to keep me away, Mister."

vvvv

Epilogue:

Jo visited Henry a few more times over the next several weeks. He eventually returned to New York, and resumed his life and career there, and he and Jo married a year later. He also kept in touch with Dr. Anderhalden and eventually revealed his secret to him. In return, Henry learned and perfected Anderhalden's miracle method of burn treatments. Twelve years later, his son, Abe, died at age 85; his ashes were spread into the East River, from the same spot where they'd spread Abigail's years earlier. When Henry could no longer hide his non-aging, he retired from the OCME the next year. He and Jo moved to Zurich, after her retirement five years after that. After Anderhalden grew old and fell into ill health, he passed the gauntlet to Henry, who took over and ran the clinic until Jo's death at age 87, in the year 2072. That same year, he left the clinic in the hands of a talented and dedicated protegee, and returned to New York, to spread Jo's ashes into the East River, as well. New York City reclaimed his heart and he remained there for several more years before moving on.

And some might be wondering how Henry was able to even drive the rental car to the cabin. Let's say, for the sake of this story, he managed via Abe and some of his more adventurous contacts, to obtain a valid driver license. Nip tuck on that, I hope.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> News blurbs gathered from different major news outlets (ABC, CBS, CNN).


End file.
